


Blueberry Muffins

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Crack, Demon Form, Domestic, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Newt POV, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Short One Shot, anathema can see their auras too but newt can't, breakfast is important kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale is slow to anger, as an angel should be. However, there is something that's beyond even his endurance.





	Blueberry Muffins

Newt is standing in front of the kitchen window of the neighboring cottage and he is quite scared.

It doesn't really hep his mood that Anathema, standing beside him, watching the same scene unfold, is utterly delighted.

It's one thing to intellectually know that the ten(n)ants of the summer cottage near theirs, whom the locals consider rather strange but cute[1] are actually celestial, well, supernatural beings but quite another to see the A. Z. Fell, the dignified gentleman bookseller sitting at the breakfast table, christening a blueberry muffin with a really obscene amount of creamy butter, while there is a rather big and menacing-looking, probably venomous, red-bellied black snake slithering on the floor, around his legs.

Snakes do not usually look angry. This one, however, pulls it off somehow. Its forked tongue lashes the air, its hissing, while has no decipherable meaning for Newt, still clearly conveys its dismay. 

"Now, now, my dear boy, no need to throw a wobbly here." Aziraphale bites into the muffin and is immediately overtaken by sweet bliss clearly written across his features. "Ooh, but this is absolutely divine. Why don't you try a bite?" 

The snake almost ties itself into a knot on the floor at that but instead it slithers up Aziraphale's legs with a long, exasperated hiss, then further up into his lap, finally coils itself around his ribs and squeezes so hard that Newt thinks he can hear the bones creaking. Above the cottage, a grey cloud is forming, spinning lazily, thickening like pepper-flavored cotton candy. 

Aziraphale would sigh if he could. Instead he reaches for the butterknife again. The snake ineffably chooses this unfortunate moment to rear up and hiss into the angel's ear. 

The next dollop of butter ends up on its head. 

Anathema smacks her hands to her mouth to stop any sound escaping. Newt mentally prepares himself for the end of the world.

Aziraphale _giggles._

The snake's hiss is lost somewhere among the ultrasonic frequencies. 

Aziraphale unwinds the serpentine coils from his body to be able to breathe again. "Yes, yes, that's all quite true," he says, somewhat winded, and unceremoniously dumps Crowley to the floor again. "Still, no reason to ruin such a perfectly scrumptious breakfast, I say." 

A blink of an eye[2], and the snake is gone, or rather, changed shape. It's bipedal now, though not at all human. It's back is bent, its form too tall, too wide for the cottage kitchen, its skin is covered in black scales that shimmer with a dark, blood-like red with every movement of the rippling muscles beneath. Its black wings snap furiously once, twice, and the tea set with the handpainted forget-me-nots breaks into a million shards under his hooved feet. On its head, three pairs of sharp-looking horns scrape the ceiling; its eyes burn like hellfire. 

Above the building, the cloud swirls thicker, darker. It's almost as menacing as the demon of Hell taking form before the trembling Newt and the raptly watching Anathema. 

Aziraphale looks at the broken tea set and shakes his head slowly. "I rather liked those, you know." 

The demon stoops to him, its maw, filled with knife-sized and probably also knife-sharp teeth only inches from the unruffled bookseller's face and neck. It growls a phrase that's still not in any comprehensible human language; Newt, however, has no doubt that it's linked together used only extremely rude elements. 

Two matching plates and a mug fall from the shelf in mortal shame and fear. 

Aziraphale tuts disapprovingly and reaches for another muffin. 

The demon swats it away. The whole table, muffins, butter, tea, cream, all find themselves very suddenly reduced to sad, sodden splinters and stains at[3] the wall.

"My breakfast!" The word is definitely a hiss;[4] Aziraphale's chair lands with a sharp thwack when a whirlwind of white feathers burst into this plane of existence, knocking it over. The angel rises and rises, taller that Newt ever saw him rise, immaculate wings spread to their widest, trembling with righteous wrath. A wide ray of blinding sunlight cuts through the black cloud above their heads, much like a flaming sword. 

"Oh, dear, this is _some_ domestic spat," Anathema breathes, trying to contain her helpless amusement. Newt's eyes go, if possible, even wider. He recalls Anathema having mentioned earlier how convenient it were if she could shut her third eye and not see any auras when Aziraphale and Crowley spend any time longer than a day in their vicinity but...

Anathema tries to contain her mirth and fails. A giggle escapes. Really, it's nothing. 

It's too loud. 

Both heads swivel towards them, yellow and blue eyes blazing. 

Anathema bites her lip but her laughter bubbles up, loud and fresh. 

The demon roars and the cloud bursts with a purple strike of lightning followed by the eardrum-shattering thunderclap. Suddenly, the rain is coming down on them in icy sheets, and Anathema runs, shrieking with joy, stumbling, yet somehow not falling. 

Newt closes his eyes, turns away and follows. 

__________________________________________________

11 He shudders to think about who should have mercy if Crowley were to catch wind of that one.[return to text]

22 Newt's.[return to text]

33 (and on) [return to text]

44 They do learn from each other, after all. [return to text]


End file.
